Can you do Ratchet with Glitter and Gold owo?
Fresh Air, Hard Work, And The Blood and Tears Between
I am flesh and I am bone Rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold I've got fire in my soul Rise up, ting ting, like glitter
“I know y’know the diff’rnce ‘tween you an’ the young’ns.”
“Eh?”
“Dontchu eh me, boy.”, she scolded gently on the video call, “They need good air, good VAPOREX air. Not that city smog. Gimme one summer, son’o’mine- one summer and things’ll be diff’rnt.”
“Ma, country air can’t cure depression.”
“No, ‘t can’t. But it can make it seem less like a rainstorm and more like a fall overcast- even just for a li’l while.”
“...Alright.”
The little family was excited- Perceptor laughed from his belly when Ratchet sighed and suggested it, clapping his hands together once and nodding eagerly.
“You owe Mama R a visit anyway, dear.”
“But what about you, and Storm, and Whirl-”
“We’ll be fine, we’re grown. You and the kids need the time- they have much of you in them, after all... And the Vaporex air was able to work it’s magic on you for a lot longer.”
“It’s not magic, Percy.”
“Your mother says it is; and she has ways of Knowing.”
The younger ones were curious- all but Mimi and QD, of course. They led the pack, with their tiny memories- dim but all they had to run with. Whispers of their grandmother’s stern expression, the way she seemed to call the thunderstorms with nothing more than a nod and a huff and a muttered ‘Need a good rain, grass is thirsty.’
The steady tap of her old hardwood cane- gnarled and dark with shellac and (QD theorized) definitely-probably-blood-maybe.
The constant smells of sassafras and chamomile and dandelion and clover. Of rosehip honey in the cupboard next to a first aid kit and a heavy jar of molasses.
When they boarded the shuttle the day after summer break started, they were all abuzz as much as Ratchet was quiet and tense and glaring at any who dared stare at him before Mimi dug a coffee thermos out of her backpack and passed it over to him.
His grateful sipping was all she needed as she settled beneath the small pile of her tired siblings to watch the sun rise through the shuttle windows.
When her shoulder was shaken, she mumbled sleepily and huffily; annoyed that she’d fallen asleep so easily on the long ride. She rubbed her eye with one hand- and felt a cane tap her wrist.
“Don’t touch y’r eyes, young’n. You’ll go blind.”
“Nana!”
The kids all stirred in surprise, blinking and yawning and stretching as the cackle of their grandmother rose high and gentle like old bourbon and sweet tea. Mimi pushed forward, arms going around the waist of Nana like a vise until she felt creaking hands ruffle her short hair.
“Lan’sakes child- Who cut y’r hair now, a weedeater? Fshaw, I’ll be diggin’ out m’clippers tonight then.”
“Ma, she’s fine.”, laughed Ratchet before his mother’s squinting gaze turned on him as he levelled himself easily out of the back of the old truck they’d been riding in.
“I got some words f’r you too son’a’my heart.”, she teased, “Curls erry which way now, lookit ya- like a dannylion puff bout to bust!”
He huffed with a frown, and she turned back to the kids- taking a quick count and clicking her tongue.
“Like rabbits.”
“MA.”
“Am I wrong?”
Mimi and Quickdraw couldn’t help snorting at the long-suffering sigh Ratchet let off while Nana’s hand tugged easily at the truck’s tailgate and let it drop open with a rattle.
“Outchya’ll git, now. Had a frien’ take your bags on ahead so they’re in the house a’ready. But you lot needa good ol’ fashion lunch so go wash on up and gather in the dinin’ room.”
“Yes’m!”, chimed Mimi, seeming to relax as her voice slacked down- to a soft roughness; as if simply breathing in the noontime air calmed something in her soul. The younger siblings squinted at her for a moment before being shepherded by her and Quickdraw into the house.
Nana stared for a moment, listening to Mimi’s prosthetic steps and Quickdraw’s light-footed taps went up the front steps and into the open doubledoor.
“How much she lose, son.”
“Everything from just above the knee down.”, sighed Ratchet, “QD ran her to my hospital. Three miles, full sprint.”
“Mm.”
“She’s up and walking, and doing better since starting to go to the Primal gardens, I don’t know if it’s the prayer or the community-”
“Pah. Religion.”, she scoffed, “It’s the green, son. It’s the green.”
“Eh?”
“Stoppat, say what like a grown man. Now; she needs the green. She needsat world-touch, y’see.”, continued Nana, “Young Mimi is a doer, like you an’ like Percy, now. If she ain’t DOIN’ she’s DYIN’, but not like normal cityfolk die. Her spirit’s sick, I can see it. She needs this air, these trees. They helped you, they’ll help her, and QD, an’ the younger’uns too. They got that soulsickness.”
“..Ma, you know how ridiculous it sounds for a doctor to tell another doctor that someone’s SOUL is sick, right.”
“Spirit-chasers and shamans invented our science, son, and you’d be of good mind to remember that the basis of medicine has always been- on some level- magic.”
Ratchet frowned, but Nana grinned and tapped the side of her nose.
“Wasnit a mushroom what cured the pox and plague?”
Ratchet paused, eyebrows raising in a glimpse of understanding as his mother cackled and waved him to walk with her, putting a shaky foot on the first front step.
“Now come help y’r mama- we got li’l uns to feed and chores to settle out.”
He couldn’t help the fond smile hovering on his face now- breathing the deep scent of forest-edge honeysuckle and feeling his chest lighten.
...Maybe there was something to the whole... Magic air argument.
